


Hands

by Vita_S_West



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Cute, F/M, Ficlet, Office, Royai Week, Royai Week 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 00:24:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14905016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vita_S_West/pseuds/Vita_S_West
Summary: Propinquity. Mustang does this every week.





	Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Hi this is my first return to fanfiction in many years. I hope you enjoy it. I'm doing the mod prompt for Day 1. Happy Royai Week 2018!!

Every Friday, a little past 4 o’clock, an hour before the day is due to wind down, the Lieutenant arrives, a look of perpetual exasperation inscribed into her features. Mustang, not without a flare for the dramatics, pretends not to see her at first, each time—as if he could ever actually ignore her. Then, he looks up, quirks a smile as she adopts a more benign, more respectful expression.

“Ah, Lieutenant, what do you need help with?” he asks.

“The weekly reports, sir,” she says simply. “I need you to sign them before I file them.”

“Mm. Do you?”

He’s winding her up now and they both know it. But it’s only Fuery and Falman left in the office. Havoc skived off for an appointment that was actually a date, and Breda is out following up a lead. Mustang is as close to being alone with her in the office as ever.

“Just like last week, Colonel,” she says, a touch of irritation shining through.

She probably doesn’t know why he does this. File away reports he knows all too well by now that he has to sign. He wonders if she thinks he is being sloppy. He wonders if she can sense his ulterior motive. This is his favourite part of the week, after all.

“Well, let’s see then?” he says, sitting up straighter in his chair.

She puts the files across his desk and begins opening them, flipping to pages and pointing to individual lines and spaces. Her movements are quick and fluid and he drinks them in. This obsession all began after they returned from the Civil War, when he would watch her make an unlikely shot. During the war, she’d been a sniper, so he’d never seen her shoot. He’d only seen the end result.

After the war, when they worked even closer he got a much better view of her precise and practical movements. With her sidearm, he got to see her in action. Those violent and aggressive moments weren’t his favourite though. That place in his heart was occupied by the smaller moments. The quiet ones. When she cleaned her side arm. When she stirred the scant bit of sugar into her coffee. When she flips through files and points to where he has been derelict in his duties. There was something hypnotic about it all. She has beautiful hands.

She stands close enough to smell, but not quite close enough for him to feel her warmth. She leans over him and points, and he loops his name slowly, drawing out the moment. Drawing out her closeness, her breaths that are not quite huffs, but quick enough that he knows that she knows she should feel more annoyed. She enjoys this time, after all.


End file.
